


Wish We Could Turn Back Time...

by DestielPhanCaleo_Shipper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielPhanCaleo_Shipper/pseuds/DestielPhanCaleo_Shipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The countries are trying to make a time machine to, well, take them back or forward in time. America had come over to England's house (where a few tests were being run and stuff like that), trying to ignore England and Prussia's relationship. As he, Canada and Prussia worked in the basement to improve the time machine, America slips away and-being the person he is-accidentally ends up in 1689, London, England. Just around the time when England was in his pirate days.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or it's characters. All credit goes to the wonderful creator of Hetalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

America’s POV:

I sigh, looking up at the familiar building.

_England’s house, the place I spent the first couple of years of my life in._

I pushed that thought away as I reached over and pressed the doorbell.

I heard the sound of the doorbell going off inside the house and hear a sound of alarm.

“It was just the doorbell, Gilbert, calm down.” England’s muffled voice says inside.

_“Gilbert”? Since when does he call Prussia “Gilbert”? No nation ever calls another nation by their human names, we only ever use them with our bosses because they say they find it odd to call us the country the live in. As I said, we hardly ever use our human names._

“Oh, hello America,” England says after having opened the door.

I smile-albeit, forcibly-at England, “Hey Artie, is Prussia here?”

“Stop calling me that,” England says immediately.

I merely laugh, glancing behind him at the figure that appeared.

“Oh, hey America, come in,” Prussia greets.

“Since when are you allowed to say that? Shouldn’t _I_ be the one allowing people into  _my_ home?” England mutters.

Prussia laughs, wrapping his arm around England. “Well, you were taking too long.” He said, stepping back to let me in.

I shut the door behind me, unable to keep my eyes on the two for very long before feeling like throwing up and throwing a punch at the same time.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Prussia told England who nodded. “C’mon,” he directed it at me, stepping away from England and motioning me over.

I glance at England, giving him a small smile before following Prussia further into the building.

I don’t even need Prussia as a guide, I know exactly where the basement and every other room in this house is. The only thing that would throw me off would be the change in decorations.

England never really changes anything about his house except small things like different forms of technology or things that go with the times-that’s not just England, that’s every nation there is.

As of late, humans would find the odd bond between the two countries Germany and England normal, it’s been happening a lot and everyone has gotten over it-not that they cared.

I don’t find it normal-I don’t like it, actually, but I can’t really say anything. England can do whatever the fuck (or whoever, I suppose would be the right term) he wants to. I have no say over it. That still doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I glance up at Prussia, unable keep from glaring.

_Why does it have to be_ Prussia,  _of all people. I mean, if it were, like, anyone else, I wouldn’t mind because it’s not like I regularly talk to everyone. Not that I don’t_ talk  _to everyone but Prussia is (was?) a really good friend of mine and I know he isn’t aware of it but every damn time I come and visit him (at England’s) he always rubs his damn relationship in my face and it’s literally all I can do until I end up snapping and leave Prussia in a bloody pulp on the-_

“Here we are,” Prussia proclaimed after having reached the bottom of the stairs that lead to the basement.

“So what is it we’re doing again?” I ask, shoving my hands in the pockets of my sweater, feeling the cool air of the basement send chills down my spine.

“Time travel, duh.”

I roll my eyes, “I know that much but what exactly?”

“Oh, remember how I had gotten the…” Prussia starts to explain what he had done after I had left the last time I came here and I start to zone off.

It’s not that I  _hate_ Prussia now, that’s not the case. It’s that I  _dislike_ the idea of  _him_  being with  _England._

I start to pay attention again, hoping Prussia hadn’t noticed the five minutes where I was staring blankly off to space.

“-And I was thinking of maybe doing that but I’m not sure because there’s only a limited amount of them we have and England said-”

I bite my lip and look away, trying to school my face into composure,  _ignore it America! Ignore it!_

For some reason, the reasonable, logical, smart and just all-in-all realistic side of my brain is voiced by none other than England. Literally. Whenever I have small feuds with myself it’s really just me arguing with England. It gets annoying after a while, having to constantly hear that damned accent despite the fact that I can’t see him.

“America?”

“Huh?” I ask, snapping to attention.

“We’re you even listening to me?”

“Uh, yeah, I was, the whole wanting to try out your little plan but not wanting to ‘cause there isn’t enough, etcetera, etcetera.”

He looks at me for a moment, his face blank, before nodding.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Anyways, I thought that maybe you could do this one thing…” His voice trails off as he starts to walk past couches and TV that make up part of the beginning of the basement and to the tables and other stuff that clutter the back.

As he said earlier, we’re working on time travel. Normally, we have scientists (humans) do this sorta thing-which we do-but we wanted to try and do it ourselves.

Obviously, it isn’t just me and Prussia doing this or else we’d only be just trying to figure out the basics of this stuff and that in it itself is very difficult. Every country (that cares about everyone’s future, that is) is working on this.  _Mainly,_ it’s me, England, Prussia,Canada, Japan, Russia, Germany, both Italies, Spain, China, the Nordics and France. We all come here and try to pitch in at least once or twice a week but since we are nations, we have a country to run as well.

That’s where our scientists come in. Each country had a group of the smartest people-ones with the highest IQ and were into this sorta stuff and whatnot-or  _scientists_ , come and brought them all here-England.

Obviously, it isn’t all in England’s basement either, this is only a small little place us nations go to when we don’t want to talk to humans. There’s a large facility in-I can’t remember but I think it was either in Reading, Oxford or the other one, uh, Kingston. One of those has the facility in which all the scientists from all over went and worked on how to solve the whole time travel problem.

We tried and have them all speak one language-seeing as they were all from different countries-which led to a large battle as to  _what_ language they spoke.

I could honestly care less seeing as I spoke practically every language there is what with all the people who have come over to my country hardly speaking English and forcing me to add that language to my repertoire. I don’t mind, I like knowing several languages and being able to speak to everyone.

England can speak several languages as well but he wanted it to be in English. I agreed-really for his sake-and he went on saying it would be easier this way since they themselves spoke English and the scientists did to some extent.

English is the official language they are supposed to use but it really doesn’t matter.

Anyways, what was I doing again… Oh, right! Prussia was-

“-Ou know, if you were going to ignore me this whole time, you could’ve just declined to my offer to coming over?”

“Huh, what do you mean-”

“You responded! Wow, I thought you were going to stay like that all day,” he said with faux impression, leaning back against one of the tables and crossing his arms.

“Sorry,” I say after a moment of trying to think of a response, sounding bashful. “I’ve just had a long flight.”

“Didn’t you arrive yesterday?”

“No, I landed about an hour or two ago.”

“Well why didn’t you say so!” He says, leaning off the table. “You can’t work if you’re half-dead to the world! Why don’t you get some rest before-”

“Oi, Gilbert!” England’s voice calls from the top of the stairs.

He smiles apologetically at me, holding up a finger.

I shrug, crossing my arms and looking away.

Prussia walks back to the stairs, saying, “What happened?”

“Did you invite Canada as well?” He asks and the moment I hear Canada’s name, I start to listen in.

“Yeah, I think I did, hey Alf-er, America, sorry.”

I wave my hand dismissively, hoping he didn’t see just how I annoyed I was.

“Did we invite Matty?”

_“Matty”? I want to ask. Only_ I  _am allowed to call him Matty you bloody-_

“Yeah, we did.” I say a bit monotonously.

“We did, why do you ask?” Prussia asks England

“Canada’s here,” I hear England say then his footsteps start to recede.

“Hey Matty!” Prussia says a few moments later.

“Hey Prussia, is Alfred-oh, hello America.” He says before having reached the bottom of the staircase. “What are we doing today?” Canada asks, rubbing his hands together.

Prussia sighs, “I have to explain this all over again-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, if you don’t-”

Prussia laughs, “It’s fine, anyways, last time you were here we worked on-” and the zoning out commences but this time but since Matthew is here so he tells me what’s going on in a low voice so Prussia doesn’t hear the short summaries he tells me.

_I’m so glad Matty’s here,_ I thought, glancing at Matty.

He noticed my gaze on him and looked over, giving me a questioning look.

I wave my hand dismissively and shake my head, mouthing, “nothing.”

He nods, a bit skeptically, but looks back up at Prussia nonetheless.

Once we  _finally_ start to work on the time travel thing, I’m set beside Canada because we all know I wasn’t listening.

It’s really just me handing Canada random things and daydreaming.

“What’s wrong Alfred?” Canada asks, not needing to lower his voice because, one, he speaks quietly anyways and, two, Prussia is too far away to hear him anyways.

“Nothing,” I mutter, reaching out and fiddling with one of the bottles with bright green liquid in it, trying to remember what this was. There was a label on the back but I wanted to get these memorized.

“Is it because of where we are?”  _England._

“No.” Not  _technically._

“Is it because of him,” he nods slightly to Prussia who was writing something down concentratedly.

I don’t say anything for a moment. “Not exactly.”

“Both of them?”

“I hate you.” 

“You’re going to have to ignore it for a couple of hours if you ever want to get through with this.”

I sighed,  _this is why everyone (who notices and remembers) likes Matthew, because a normal person would’ve said something like, “just get over it,” or “there’s nothing you can do about it,” or “then try and get him back,” or something as equally demanding but Matthew doesn’t. No, he (pretty much) says “you just have to deal with it for now and then you can cry as much as you want about it later” (figuratively, of course)._

“I want to go home,” I mutter.

“You  _are_ home.” He points out.

I groan, “Don’t remind me!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, smiling sadly. “I used to live here too, you know?”

“Yeah but for you, ‘home’ is France.”

He shrugs, “Same thing,” he says, looking away.

I laugh loudly at that. “France and England are too completely different places Matty.”

He chuckles, “Really? Have you ever been to France, out of curiosity?”

“Of course I have! Who do you think I am?”

He laughs at that, “Okay then. Whatever you say.” He holds up his hands in submission.

I chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the paper in front of Matthew.

“So we’re just doing the same thing as last time?” I deadpan.

“Essentially.” He shrugs.

“You coulda said that to begin with!” I say, slamming the paper down on the table.

“I did,” Canada blinks.

I open my mouth to argue but come up short,  _he must’ve told me when but I must’ve forgotten._

I sighed, “Fine, pass me another paper.” I say, holding out my hand whilst sliding his back to him.

Canada gets another paper from the pile of papers at the end of the table, handing me it.

I sighed, grabbing a pencil from the center of the table and getting to work.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I know it's starting off slow but I swear, it'll get better by the next chapter, just stick with me.

America’s POV:

Canada had trusted me enough with this simple task that he went off and went to go ask Prussia couple of things.

I got bored almost immediately without Canada there to talk to.

So, as a way to not be bored, I suppose, I got up and started messing with things. The other two didn’t notice so I had managed to slip away from the group and was standing in front of the metal, almost like a box but not really, thing that served as the thing you would get in and be taken back in time.

It was painted blue.

I sighed, muttering, “Damn it England, you really had to paint it blue?”

I reached out and pressed one of the buttons, smiling when it lit up in response.

It vaguely crossed my mind that I shouldn’t be doing this and that it shouldn’t even be  _ on  _ to begin with.

I started to press buttons in an order that made sense, I mean, they  _ were  _ labeled and some things just led to another.

The doors silently slid open, a button a bit larger than the others slowly blinking on and off that read:  _ DO NOT PRESS THIS BUTTON. _

I chuckled, _ that oughta be the one that sends whoever back in time. _

_ It’s not like I’m inside the box anyways, plus, I’m not stupid either, I’m not going to just going to press the button. We haven’t finished it anyways, so it wouldn’t work. _

But the temptation to press it was slowly killing me.

_ I’ll just press it and quickly shut it off.  _ I thought, rubbing the smooth surface of the blinking button.

I press it and a soft hissing sound comes from the machine.

I look up and lock eyes with Canada, his eyes were wide and his face pale. Prussia was facing in the opposite direction, talking loudly so he hadn’t heard the sound.

I smiled at Canada, winking before-without any consent from the rational part of my brain more commonly known as England-stepping into the clean, reflective-metal walled inside of the machine.

“Alfred!” I hear Canada yell but the doors had already silently, slid shut.

I laughed,  _ did he really think this would send me- _

A loud snapping sound-much like thunder-had me falling down onto the ground.

I tried to block out the noise that continued on-albeit a bit quieter but it was still  _ really  _ loud-by harshly pressing my fists against my ears but all it did was muffle the sound. I could literally feel it in my whole being, shaking me to my core, as the sound continued and I was slammed against the wall by some invisible force and held me back. I felt as though I were floating in midair and I felt dread pool in my stomach- _ what the fuck did I do? _

Then it stops, the loud thundering, I mean, and suddenly, I feel as though I were on a roller coaster heading downwards. The only problem was-I wasn’t on a rollercoaster, had no seat belt much less an idea as to when it’d end and if I’d survive.

_ I’m a nation, I can’t possibly-  _ the feeble hope was gone in less than a blink of an eye when the bloody  _ metal coffin  _ I was in seemed to have slammed into something from below, sending a shock of pain up my feet and legs.

I groaned, rolling over as gravity pushed me down back onto the floor. I just stayed there-lying on the cold, hard metal ground and groaned in pain.

After a few moments, I managed to sit up and lean against the wall of the time-travel box, still feeling my ears ringing from the noise.

_ There’s no way I made it back in time! I wasn’t even sure of the buttons I pressed and it wasn’t even completed! Was it…? _

I shook off the thought, struggling to get up and pushing open the door.

I was greeted with a bright light but it looked in no way artificial.

I groaned, annoyed at the added disadvantage-unable to hear properly and now to see.

After a few minutes of blinking, my eyes finally adjusted to the light and I could see a grey, cloudy sky, large, rolling, green hills spread in front of me as far as the eye could see.

About a mile-maybe less-away from me was a small cluster of home-like buildings. They were small and looked like cottages with smoke coming out of the chimneys. There were also larger buildings that looked to be about two stories tall but as you went further out of the small village-it looked like-the buildings slowly got smaller.

_ I’m not in my time frame, aren’t I?  _  I thought resignedly.

I made a plan to try and hide this thing so the locals wouldn’t find it out and start freaking out and decide to burn it or whatever.

I picked it up by one corner, easily lifting it and carrying it behind one of the bigger hills.

_ But if they just decide to stroll over they’ll just as easily see it. _

I thought for a moment,  _ I don’t have a shovel to just start covering it in dirt. I could try to find a bunch of trees and try to cover them with limbs and whatnot but if someone just finds a pile of tree branches stacked together they oughta, like, wonder what’s under it or want to take the limbs for firewood. _

_ Speaking of which, what time is this? Do they still have wood-burning fireplaces or…? _

I sighed, glancing around and seeing only a few trees scattered about.

_ So I guess I’ll have to stick with burying it in dirt but… where will I find a shovel? If I just go up to them and ask wouldn’t they want money or something? I feel like this is from quite a while ago and they might not have the same currency. And, oh no, I’m dressed like a modern-day American. Great. They’ll  _ definitely _ write me off as someone normal. _

I sighed, plopping down onto the ground in defeat.

_ What should I- _

“Hey, mister! Who are you?” An extremely childish-sounding, extremely British boy yells.

I look up, shocked, and meet the sight of the boy.

He wore grey pants that reached a bit below his knees, long socks, grey shoes that I would bet weren’t very comfortable, and a grey, button-up shirt with a white collar sticking out of it.

I freeze- _ he’s talking to me but I don’t- _

“Why are you dressed so weirdly?” The boy persists.

I chuckle, “Uh, I didn’t have anything else to wear.” I said.

“Woah, you sound really weird.”  _ Weird must be this kid’s favorite word or something. _

I laughed, forcing myself to speak in a British accent.

_ I’m technically not making myself change accents, really, when I lived with England, I used to have that same accent but whenever I became independent (and a bit before that) my accent started changing as the people’s did. Really, I’m just going back to my original accent, it just sounded weird. _

“I do?” I asked, slipping back into the familiar lilt more commonly known as the British accent.

He blinked, obviously wondering what had happened.

“Nevermind, but who are you?” He asked.

_ Wait, he doesn’t see the time-travel thingy? Maybe it’s the angle. _

I get up and walk closer to the boy whose eyes widened.

“Uh, my name is Am-Alfred, what’s yours?”

“I’m Charles FitzRoy!” He says proudly.

I smile, “Hello Charles,” I said, accidentally slipping back into my American accent at first but quickly covering it up.

“Are you going to stay dressed like that the whole time or…?” His voice trails off, his eyes travelling over my grey sweater, blue jeans and sneakers.

“Uh, I don’t really have any money to-”

“I have some!” He proclaims.

I blink, “Uh, yeah, I don’t-”

“I can give you some,” he smiles warmly.

_ Don’t Alfred,  _ Arthur-the one in my head anyways-warned.

“I’m sorry, I can’t take your money, Charles, I really-”

“Oh it’s fine, really,” he smiles.

“Where are your parents?” I asked, looking around.

“Oh, they’re having some kinda meeting with the King,” he shrugs.

I nod, “Are you allowed to be out here all alone?” I asked, stepping further away from the time machine.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He asked, tilting his head curiously to the side.

“N-no reason.”

“C’mon, let’s get you changed, you look terrible.” The boy turns around, not even checking to make sure if I was following him.

I sighed, glancing at the blue box that stood, hidden by the hill.

_ I have no choice do I? This kid’s as stubborn as England! _

I shook away the thoughts of England and anything related to him- _ I can’t get distracted, this is important, no fucking this up Alfred- _ and followed the boy, having to jog to catch up with the boy who walked a lot faster than you’d think.


	3. Chapter 3

America’s POV:

I remember back when I was still a colony-living at England’s house-England would tell me things about his past and I remember one time I asked about how different the fashion and whatnot had changed and I was then given an hour long rant about how much England hated the clothing he would sometimes have to wear in the 17th century. I was there for the 17th century, yes, but I didn’t have to wear the kind of things England had complained constantly about.

I now understand why he hates them so much.

Everything was so frilly and stiff and just bleh. I absolutely refused to wear a wig- _the kid asked me if I needed one since I was going_ bald!-and pretty much begged Charles not to make me wear one of the dress-like outfits.

So here I was, dressed in a long coat with only the top ones buttoned, breeches that were the same shade of blue as the coat, a black hat that looked much like the ones Christopher Colombus and them wore, long, white stockings and all that with a  _sword belt!_

I started to wonder how this kid could just conjure up so much money to give a, literal, random stranger a whole new set of clothes but then, as we were leaving, one of the men who had dressed me and whatnot bowed and said, “Have a good day, Master FitzRoy.”

_Royalty? I stumbled over_ royalty?  _Of course I did, why wouldn’t I?_

Charles nodded, bowing his head slightly, “And you too, Lennon.”

I, more or less, waddled after Charles, trying desperately to keep up as I held the bag that contained my old ( _technically, new_ ) clothes in my left hand. I kept tugging on the collar of my shirt, trying to keep it as far away from my neck as possible- _it was just so itchy!_

_Stop whining, you bloody yankee, just follow the child until you find some kind of shovel to try and hide the time machine._

I rolled my eyes even though I knew it wasn’t even England and he couldn't see it regardless.

“Where do you live?” Charles asks, stopping in the middle of the road.

“Oh, n-nowhere right now, I’m just trying to get to the ocean.” I smiled, hoping it was convincible ( _was that a reason people traveled or was that just in the movies?_ ).

“Oh, I could get you there,” he said, looking up at me with his brown eyes shining.

_Why is this kid so charitable? If it were me, I would’ve, like, I dunno, cried for England or something at his age which looks roughly to be around 13._

“Are you sure, I mean, you already spent so much-”

He laughed, “You think that was a lot? That was nothing, I could do so much more, plus, I’m in a good mood, let me do this one thing.”

I sighed, “Fine, if you insist.”

He smiled, “Do you know where  _exactly_ you want to go or?”

“No, just the nearest port, I suppose,” I said, flinching slightly because I had, yet again, started to speak in an American accent.

_Damn it! I’m not used to speaking in this damn accent anymore!_

“Okay, I’ll arrange for a carriage to take you then.” He said, smiling at me.

_The time machine Alfred!_ Arthur yelled and I almost jumped.  _Don’t forget the bloody time machine!_

“Th-thank you, Charles, can I take my things as well?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, his hands behind his back and his posture stiff.

I smiled, still a bit puzzled as to why he’d help a random stranger out but, eh, whatever floats his boat, I suppose.

The next few hours are spent tiredly following Charles around the city as he talked to me about all his friends and everyone he knows and everywhere he’s been.

By dusk, he’s yawning and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, his voice just below a whine.

“I don’t want to leave you either but-”

“Then don’t!” He perked up.

“Sorry kid, I have to.”

“But you said you just wanted to go, not that you needed to.”

I smile, “You’ll understand when you get older,”  _I hate that phrase!_

He pouts, “Fine, but I hope to see you again.”

“Of course, kiddo,” I said, slipping back into my American accent but thankfully, Charles didn’t notice my slip up.

“I’ll call for a carriage and someone to pick up your things, have a good night Alfred.” He said, stepping closer to his house which we had stopped in front of.

“Good night Charles,” I said, smiling.

_I’m never going to see this kid again, am I?_

_Nope,_ Arthur said with no remorse.

I watched Charles retreating figure as he stepped into his house, spoke to the butler who nodded and disappeared.

Then the door which had let yellow light spill into the cobbled street shut, making everything dark.

“Are you Alfred?” A man asks.

The man had short, black hair, pale skin-like, it was almost as pale as Prussia’s, I mean he had  _pale_ skin-and was wearing a butler’s uniform.

“Yes,” I said, thinking his eyes looked black but remembered it was too dark for me to prove that correct or not. “And you are?”

“Oh,” he smiled, “I’m just one of Charles’s butlers.”

“Yeah, but don't you have a name? You don’t go around calling yourself Charles’s butler, do you?” I asked curiously.

His smile never dropped or wavered, “Of course not, I’m Sebastian. Mr. FitzRoy said you wanted a ride to Brighton and to pick something up of yours.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh,”  _Brighton? Is that by the ocean?_

_Yes you git._ I hear England say.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, follow me,” the butler motioned me forward.

I followed the butler down to the gravel path way where a bunch of carriages were lined, sleek black and modern (for the time at least) looking.

The butler opened the door with his gloved hands for me, bowing formally.

_Woah, this guy is a really good actor._ I thought, stepping into the carriage and hearing the door shut behind me.

_Is he driving?_ I thought.

The horses who pulled the carriage started to move after being told, their feet rhythmically clomping on the ground, disturbing the quiet peacefulness of the city.

I mean, can I call it that? A city? It looked like a village to me, honestly.

“Where are your things?” Sebastian the butler asked.

“Uh, the edge of town.” I said, trying hard not to make a sound like a question.

He didn’t respond so I hoped he knew what I was talking about.

When the carriage stopped, we were exactly where I had arrived.

_Huh, is this called the “Edge of Town” or something?_ I thought, pushing open the door and jumping out.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, not even bothering with the accent.

I jogged behind the hill which wasn’t too far away, seeing the time machine still there.

“Oh thank God,” I breathed. “Now how to get it on the carriage without Sebastian noticing…”

I picked up the metal box, it was only a few inches taller than me, enough so I wouldn’t hit my head standing up straight and whatnot. Maybe I can just sneak it onto the carriage-

“What an odd looking trunk,” Sebastian pointed out.

I yelled out in shock.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I scare you?” He asked.

I laughed, “Yeah, kinda.”

“Would you like me to carry it?” He asked.

“No, it’s fine, thank you,” I said, tucking it under my arm which was fairly difficult because of it’s width.

Sebastian turned and walked back to the carriage and I followed him.

_He thought it was a trunk? He must have bad vision along with the dark of night._

I settled it on the back of the carriage, making sure it was placed so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Ready to go?” Sebastian asked from the driver’s seat after I had entered.

“Yeah.” I said.

The next couple of hours-I’m not even sure how many-were spent in the bumpy carriage, the horse’s loud hooves striking the ground keeping me awake. I think I may have gotten a half hour of sleep in total when the carriage stopped.

“We’re here!” Sebastian called.

_Does he not get tired?_

I stepped out of the carriage into the dimly shining sunlight. The sun was just starting to come out and the birds just started to chirp. I stood at the edge of another city that I supposed was big. Past that, as far as the eye could see, was sparkling, deep blue water, ships of various sizes lining the port.

“Thank you, Sebastian, and thank Charles again for me.” I said after taking the time machine off the carriage.

“Of course, oh, and Mr. FitzRoy wanted me to give you these,” he said, grabbing a brown-colored cloth bag.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

“Money, a gift from Mr. FitzRoy.”

“Sebastian, I can’t accept this-”

“Of course you can.” He said before snapping the reins and he was gone, a cloud of dust in his wake.

I sighed, placing the money-filled bag in my other bag with my old (new?) clothes in it, slipping it around my shoulders like a backpack.

I lifted the time machine-which, after having just woken up-was a difficult thing to do but I managed.

I walked over to the forest that surrounded one half of the city and walked in until I could hardly hear the sound of the water over the animals in here.

I set down the time machine, looking around at the various things I could use to hide it and set to work.

When I was done, I had a pile of fallen (yanked out of their roots) trees, branches, leaves and other things over top the machine which I had laid on it’s side so I could hide it better.

_It does look a bit conspicuous,_  I thought as I paced around it to find a way to hide it better.

I shrugged,  _whatever, whoever happens to stumble over it will just have to deal with it._

I stopped in my tracks.

_I’m in England._

_How long did that take you?_ England’s voice said sarcastically.

I ignored it, looking over to the ocean.

“What year is this?” I asked no one in particular.

_You’ll have to ask the humans if you want to know,_ England said.

I wrinkled my nose,  _I’ve already had so much contact with humans, I need more nations._

_Ask the humans Alfred._

I sighed, making my way back to the city of Brighton.

As I made my way into the city, I saw people opening up cart stands with fruits and other foods.

_Market?_ I thought.

“Good morning,” I smiled to one of the women standing by a fruit stand.

“Good morning, who are you?” She asked, her voice so unbelievably posh I almost laughed.

“My name is Arthur, Arthur Kirkland, and you are?” I asked, holding out my hand and smiling politely with a small hint of something else I hoped she’d catch.

_America,_ England’s voice warned in my head.

She giggled, taking my hand, “Alice Smith,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you Miss Smith,” I said, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her hand. 

That just sent her into a round of louder giggles.

_God, I hate people like her,_ I thought as I straightened up.

Anyways, annoying conversation later, I learned it was the day after the one I was in when it was… present time? I don’t know how to word that but it was June 13th, 1689. When I was with Prussia, England and Canada-it was June 12th. Which makes sense since I spent last night driving here.

_I’ve been gone for a day, I wonder what everyone at home is doing._

_Probably nothing,_ the darker part of my mind says.  _They always find you annoying anyways, I highly doubt they cared._

Even though I agreed with it, I didn’t say (think) it aloud, just continuing to walk to the port with a bag of apples in my hand, eating one as I did so.

I sat down on the edge of the dock, my feet dangling over the water’s edge.

_So it’s 1689, this was around the time I had been dropped off in Virginia and left to fend for myself. Or was it Plymouth that he started leaving? Anyways, so England is either in America or here. But what is it he did when he wasn’t with me? He never really talks about it, to me at least, maybe he goes and tells Prussia all about it._

_Speaking of Prussia, isn’t he an actual country now? Yeah, he is._

I sighed,  _wonder how depressing it is to think that you are no longer a country but still alive-not human either._

I shook off the thought,  _England… What did England do when I wasn’t around? Or anyone? Maybe I can find another nation and ask them, but, do they look the same? I would call them and ask but I tried last night and found that there isn’t any reception in the 17th century. Not that I expected to find any._

I groaned,  _how the fuck am I supposed to get back? There’s literally no way to get back!_

I looked over and saw a ship-bigger than the rest by quite a bit-with large white sails and a flag with the Union Jack on it.

_It can’t possibly-_

My train of thought was cut off as I saw the familiar figure step off the ship, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked over the city of Brighton.

_It is!_

_Of course, it’d be just your luck to stumble over him._ England says sarcastically.

He’s also the  _sarcastic_  side of my brain at times, just when it’s against me really.

I get up, slinging my bag over my shoulder and quickly walking over to the group of sailors.

_Sailors?_ England asks and I can practically see him raising an eyebrow, waiting for me to correct myself.

I stop dead in my tracks.

_In the 17th century, England was a pirate._

_There you go,_ England says.

_Oh no, from what I heard of them (from none other than England) they aren’t people I’d like to be around._

I can practically hear England laughing at that.

Oh, wait, that’s because he  _is_ laughing.

_Oh god, I really don’t want to go over there but_ England!

I sigh, trying to muster up the courage to go over and ask to speak to him.

_Why are you so nervous? Just go over there and talk to him!_

_Yeah, and get my throat cut or something and then have to explain to them why I’m not dead? No thank you, I’d rather enjoy staying out of prison or whatever a mental asylum is for them or whatever._

England sighs in my head.  _Just go._

_Fine, but if I get in trouble-_

_America!_ He exasperates.

_I’m going, I’m going, calm down._

I straightened up (shamelessly hiding behind one of the posts that ships would tie their ropes around to keep them from floating away only moments earlier) and started to walk over, tightly clutching my bag.

I cleared my throat, getting ready for my British accent. “Excuse me.” I said, my voice annoyingly high.

The pirates looked at me oddly.

“Who are you?” The one on the right asked harshly.

“Can I, um,” I cleared my throat again, trying to force my voice an octave or two lower. “Can I speak to Arthur Kirkland?” I assumed he used his human name with his pirates, maybe not.

“How do you know his name,” the one on the left growled and suddenly, I had two swords pointing at me, glinting in the rising sunlight.

“If you just let me talk to him, I might be able to tell you-”

“You tell us first and then we’ll see if you’re worthy enough to speak to him.” The one of the right spat.

_Oh great, here comes the slitting of throats._

“I-”

“What are you two doing?” A harsh voice says behind the two.

I look up and my heart nearly stops.

Dressed in a red outfit, large red cape, gold trim, various metals glinting on his shirt and a large black hat with white feather to match on his head was none other than England.

“This guy claims to know you.” Rightie said.

“Yeah, yeah, he even knew your full name, Captain.” Leftie said.

I gulped, England turning his cold gaze on me.

“I-I can explain but I’d really prefer if these two weren’t here-”

“What does that mean, huh? What you got against us two?” Rightie asks.

“I don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, you think you’re better than us or something?” Leftie says.

_God damned pirates,_ I groaned internally.

“Just say what it is you want and how you know me.”

“I-I can’t, I mean, if I did you’d get mad and-”

England waves his hand dismissively, “Forget him. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and started to walk away, his goons following him.

_Holy shit, please don’t try to kill me (_ try _, he can’t-not really)._

“England!” I yell, a feeling of desperation filling me.

England stops.

_What is he-_

Before I know it, England’s back in front of me faster than I could register, pressing a blade against my neck.

I grimaced as I felt it dig into the first few layers of my skin and draw a bit of blood.

“How,” he spoke in a low, menacing voice, “do you know my nation’s name.”

“I’m a nation too!” I said.

He stared at me, his gaze cold and unwelcoming.

“I-I’m a nation too, I-well, you  _have_ heard of me, you’ve  _seen_ me before you just… you just don’t recognize me. There’s no way you can,” I say, smiling wearily.

His eyes narrow, “What’s your name.”

I clear my throat, “I-I’m th-the United States of America.”

His eyes widen, pushing me back as his expression hardens again.

“Yeah, right.” He rolls his eyes. “America isn’t here and he is-”

“About three, maybe less, feet tall. I know, but you have to believe me.”

“Do you know this guy, Captain?” The guy who was originally standing on my left asked England.

He waved the two away, “Go back to work, we’re leaving not too long from now.”

The two pirates nodded, shooting me a glare before running off.

“How can you possibly think I’d believe what you say-”

I sighed, “England. I know your damn human name, for God’s sake. You’re middle name is Ignatius, I always find you talking to yourself and  _laughing_ like a maniac but you always insist there’s someone else in the room with you. You colonized over half the world along with me and my brother Canada. Your arch nemesis is France, all you ever do is drink tea and eat scones. You can’t drink alcohol without becoming piss drunk. You can’t cook even if your life depended on it and you’re dating Prussia.”

He looked at me oddly, “Prussia? What do you-”

“I mean-” my eyes widened,  _he isn’t dating Prussia in this time! Oh shit!_

“Most of what you said was right, but how can you possibly be America-he’s only-”

“Less than a hundred years old, I know, but I swear, I’m America.”

“What did you mean by ‘United States of-’”

“N-nothing, it’s just…” I grimace, “Nothing, you’ll understand when you get older.”

“I’m older than you, you git.”

I laugh, “That’s true, I guess even now you’re still older than me but you wouldn’t understand.”

His expression is unreadable as he stares at me for a moment.

“Fine, until I get proven otherwise, I’ll believe your lie. Let’s say you are America as you claim to be.”

“I  _am_ ,” I mutter.

England’s eyes flash, promptly shutting me up. 

_Holy shit, England can be scary if he wants to._

“If you are who you claim to be, why do you look like this and why are you here?”

I sighed, “It’s an extremely long story I really don’t want to recount and you wouldn’t believe me anyways or understand.”

His expression never changes.

I sigh again, “Okay. Fine, let me sum it up for you. Have you ever thought of time travel?”

“Time tra-”

“Yeah, like, going back in time or to the future or something?”

“No, we’ll get to that stage in due time, there’s no need to rush the speed of things.” He said in that annoying matter-of-fact was England has of speaking.

_Even as a pirate, he’s still the same person._

“Well, in  _my_ time frame, we’ve been working on time travel and-”

“And you figured it out?” He asked curiously, a bit more of the England I know coming forward.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you-”

“I mean, we did have the time machine to take someone back or forward in time but it wasn’t exactly finished.”

“But you still went back anyways?” He deadpanned.

“It was an accident!” I exasperate.

He laughs, “Of course it was.”

“Sir,” a woman’s voice says behind England.

He turns, raising an eyebrow at the dark-haired woman standing there.

“We’ve finished and are ready to go, Captain.”

He nods, “Good. Get everyone on board, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yes, Captain,” she says, bowing before turning and leaving.

“Wait, where are you going?”

He smirks, pointing to the ocean behind him.

_I can’t leave the time machine but I don’t want to leave England._

“Are you coming?” He asked, his voice far away.

I looked up to see England standing on the gangway that connected the ship and the dock, allowing people to walk on and off it.

I glance nervously at the city behind me then back at England.

I sighed, not hearing the rational part in my head yelling at me in it’s British accent to not do it so I went ahead.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred’s POV:

As soon as I stepped onto the ship, I felt just about everyone’s eyes on me.

“Come on, that outfit looks hideous on you,” England said.

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically, hoisting my bag higher.

He chuckles, walking through the crowds of pirates who stepped aside to let him go by, their eyes on me.

“Where to Captain?” The same woman from before asks England.

“Let’s go to Spain, I have to speak to Antonio anyways,” he said as we continued to walk down the ship.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

England pushed open the door that I assumed led to the cabins below.

Down wooden hallways lit by oil lamps then into a large room with large windows and lots of space.

_The Captain’s quarters,_ I assumed.

He disappeared behind some kind of net that hung between the door and another portion of the room.

I looked around the room.

It looked like something that would belong to England-messy yet organized, clean, several books and papers, ink bottles with those really old pens they used back then (now, I suppose), a large bed on one corner of the room with it’s blankets tossed about.

He came back with a stack of clothes, “Here, hopefully, they fit or else you’ll have to wear one if my pirate’s uniforms.”

I wrinkled my nose at that idea but was glad to be out of this outfit.

He had turned around, searching for something and I shrugged.

I unbuttoned the coat and tossed it aside, the sound getting England’s attention.

“Are you just going to change there?” He asked, confused.

“Where else,” I asked, throwing the weird neck thing onto the ground as well.

He doesn’t respond, just leaning against his desk.

I slip the shirt over my head, sighing at the feeling of having that off.

I changed into a white, button-up shirt, red coat with little gold chains on the front, red pants to match, black boots and I stood there with a red cape much like England’s in my hands.

“Do I have to wear the cape?” I asked, pouting.

He looked at me oddly, “Why wouldn’t you?”

I shook my head, putting the cape on and used the brooches he had given me to fasten it to my shoulders.

“How do you wear this all the time? It’s just unnecessary weight, in my opinion.”

He chuckles, “Would you like the hat as well?”

“No, I’m fine as it is-I already weigh an extra five pounds as it is.”

“Okay, now sit.” He says, kicking a chair in my direction.

That’s easier said than done-you try sitting down with a cape on, it ain’t easy!

He crosses his left leg over his right, lacing his fingers under his chin and leaning forward.

“How are we supposed to get you back?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Back to your time.”

I blink. “Oh! Right!”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Who knew you’d grow up to be so dumb.”

“Hey!” I said indignantly.

He laughed.

“But I’m not sure-like I said, we hadn’t finished yet.”

“Well, we can’t have two America’s and how do you think you’re country is doing right now if you aren’t there?”

I look at him helplessly, “I’m not sure.”

“Where is this machine you spoke of?”

“Brighton,” I said.

“Of course it is, well, I can’t just tell them to go back and it’s going to be a long journey.”

“No! What if I need it?”

He sighs, “Fine, we’ll go back. You could’ve told me you could possibly need it before we left.”

He reaches over to the wall and tugs on one of the rope that dangled over there.

A few moments later, I heard a knocking on the door.

“Come in!” England said.

“You rang, sir?” The girl from earlier asked.

“Take us back, we need to get something from Brighton before we leave.”

“Are you sure, sir? We’re a good couple of kilometers away from shore.”

“Yes,” he says.

“Okay, sir, we’ll be arriving in less than ten minutes then.” And with that, the woman leaves again.

“Who’s she?” I asked after the door had closed.

“Sailing Master.”

“Who’s your Quartermaster?” I asked.

“He’s currently in his room asleep,” England rolls his eyes in annoyance.

I laugh at that.

England then tells me to follow him, walking back to the wheel of the ship where I get even  _more_ stares now that I’m dressed as the captain.

“How much longer ’till we get there?” England asks.

“A few minutes, sir,” his sailing master says.

He nods, leaning against the railing or whatever it’s called that keep people from merely falling off.

The sailing master starts to ask me a bunch of questions.

“What’s your name?”

“Alfred.”

“Last name?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Jones.”

“Where are you from?”

I pause, seeing England glance back at me.

“London,” I say.

“You don’t sound English.” She points out.

I shrug.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty,” technically, I’m nineteen in human years (or look like it anyways) but whatever, she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Her eyes narrow at that.

“Why are you here?”

“Elizabeth?” England asks.

“Yes, sir?”

“Leave him alone.”

She shot me an angry look, “Okay, sir.”

I shoot her a smug look and she starts to pull out her blade but stops when England looks back at her.

When we reach the shore again, England tells six people to follow him.

“You know, I could carry the it on my own, right?” I asked.

I already explained to him how it looked like a few minutes ago.

“Yes, but it would look suspicious for you to carry a large blue box around so we’re going to cover it and have them carry it.”

I nodded,  _he_ is  _right._

I stood aside as the six men complained about how heavy it was as they carried it back down to the dock.

“I thought you said you could carry it,” England said as we walked a few feet behind the pirates.

“I can.”

“But the six of them hardly can.”

I laugh, “You should know, I’m ‘freakishly strong,’ as you’ve said before.” I say, making quotation marks with my fingers as I say “freakishly strong.”

He hums, watching the six men continue to complain about the weight but never saying anything about stopping, not with their Captain right behind them.

“So, you think you’ll need it?” He asked me.

“Maybe, like I’ve said several times before-”

“Yeah, you haven’t finished it, I know but still…” He trails off.

“Can’t I just carry it?” I whine, they were getting really annoying.

“No, let them do it, it’ll look odd if one man can do something six others can’t.” He said.

I groaned, “Fine.”

England had the time machine put below docks in a safe area so it wouldn’t topple over or somehow break.

He led me back to his room, sitting back down on his desk- _he must not like his chair,_ I thought as I said in front of him.

“We don’t have any extra cabins in here-they’re all used up,” he said, glancing behind me at the door. “You have two options.” He said.

“Okay, what are they?” I asked.

“You either sleep in the brig and I give you blankets and what have you or you sleep-actually, make it three options. The second is you sleep with one of my pirates-”

“The first two are already out of the question, what’s the third?”

“Here,” his eyes glint as he says that.

“Where?”

“Here,” he repeats.

“I got that,” I roll my eyes, “But where  _in this room?_ ”

“I’m not sure, wherever you’d like.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

He points to his bed.

I nod, “Okay, I’d rather be here than anywhere else, honestly.”

He nods, getting up, “That’s one problem solved, what time is it?” He asked.

I reflexively went to reach into my pocket and pull out my phone but remembered I didn’t have it with me.

“I dunno,” I shrug.

“Is that your way of saying ‘I don’t know’?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean ‘I dunno’? Yes, it is.”

He nods, “C’mon, I think it’s time for lunch or what is  _supposed_  to be lunch on this ship.” He said, pulling open the door.

Much like England’s food, the food on the ship was terrible and I was just about to start crying because I couldn’t eat any hamburgers-or  _anything_  better than this! I love England, I really do, but I can not stand his cooking!  _Any_ sort of English food repulses me but there’s no way in Hell I’m telling him, not with that shiny blade strapped to his waist. It may not  _kill_ me but it sure as Hell  _hurts._

“Get out of my bed,” England says as soon as he enters the room.

I roll over, wrapping myself in the blankets even more.

“America,” he warns.

“You said I could sleep wherever I liked, did you not?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean on my bed! Where do you expect me to sleep?”

I scoot over a bit then pat the side of the bed beside me.

His face goes blank, “Are you serious?”

I nod, smiling at England.

He sighs, “Fine, but don’t take all of the duvet either.”

I laugh, sliding under the blankets-originally I was just lying on top of them before trapping myself in the blankets. It was a pain to get back out, actually, and in hindsight, wasn’t a smart idea but I didn’t care.

Anyways, I slid under the blankets-having long ago changed back into my modern-day clothing. England knew about me being from the future (future for the people in this time frame) so he wouldn’t be surprised.

The bed dipped slightly when England got it, having shut off the lights and undressed so he was only wearing a thin white, shirt and boxers.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?” He hummed, not commenting on using his human name.

“What if I don’t go back to time frame?”

“Well, you’ll just be stuck with me then.” He chuckles.

I turn to face him, hardly able to see him in the dark room.

“Yeah but then the America of this time will grow up to be my age and what’ll happen to me? Will I age as well? What if I just disappear? A new America can just go and take my place but what’ll happen to me?” I asked, fear leaking into my voice.

He sighed, reaching up and cupping my face, making me look him in the eye.

“I don’t know, Alfred, I really don’t. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get you back to your own time-I’ll be seeing you again anyways.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Like I said,” he smirks, “then you’re stuck with me.”

I chuckle, placing my hands over his. “I guess so.”

He smiles, pulling his hands back and I already miss the feeling of him. “Now go to sleep,” he said sternly.

“But I’m not tired,” I whine.

“Well I am, go to sleep.” He says, pulling the blanket up to cover his face and block me out.

“No, Artie, don’t go to sleep,” I whined, pulling down the blanket.

“Alfred, go to sleep.”

“No.” I say, crossing my arms stubbornly.

He sighs, “What can I do to get you to go to sleep?”

Several… thoughts that shouldn’t be said aloud popped into my head and I almost gasped.

“I don’t know, let’s play I Spy.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a game where you look around and spot something, then you tell the other person something about it like. Let’s say I saw a whale or something. I’d say, ‘I spy something blue,’ or whatever color the whale happens to be. You then have to look around and see if you can find it by listing different things you see that are blue. It usually isn’t as obvious as a whale but you get the gist of it.”

“Alfred?”

“Hm?”

“Are you stupid or something?”

I blink, “No.”

“How in the hell are we supposed to see anything in this darkness?” He exasperates.

“Oh, I didn’t think of that.”

He laughs, “Of course you didn’t. Go to sleep.”

“No! I don’t want to, Artie, please stay up with me.” I whined, tugging on his shirt.

He groaned, “Fine, how are we going to stay up?”

“Uh, I don’t know, just talk.”

“About?”

“I don’t know, you’re day? What it is you do all the time? Stuff you’ve done before?”

“Shouldn’t  _you_  be the one telling  _me_ that kind of stuff?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know close to nothing about you but you know just about everything about me, that’s not fair.”

I laugh, “You’ll figure it out in time, plus, you wouldn’t understand. There are various things and phrases from my time that you wouldn’t be able to  _fathom._ Plus, you never told me anything about your past, I just know the things I can pick up from you or things you say or complain about.”

“What would you like to know?” He asks.

I think for a moment, “What’s it like being a pirate? What do you normally do?”

He laughs, “What kind of a question is that? Being a pirate is just like being a pirate. I do several things, I can find more land for my kingdom to expand, I can do simple things like trade or be at the front of the battle between my country and others in the middle of the ocean.”

“Do you like being a pirate?”

“Yes,” he says immediately.

“Well, then again, that’s all you’ve been-a pirate. So it’s not like-”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks.

“It  _is_ true right? You’ve always been a pirate.”

He laughs, “No, I haven’t Alfred. I’ve only been a pirate for less than a decade.”

I blink, “Really?”

“Yes,” he chuckles.

“Well, that’s another thing you-from the future, at least-hadn’t told me before.”

“You make it seem like I hate you or something in the future.”

“You do.”

“Why?” He asks and I feel my face drain of color and am glad he can’t see me that well.

“Uh, you’ll see when you get older.” I said, taking off my glasses, folding them neatly and looking for a place to put them down.

“I keep forgetting you have glasses-that’s the only way I differentiate you from the America of this time.” He chuckles, grabbing my glasses and setting them somewhere behind him.

I chuckle, “I do look a lot different with glasses on, don’t I?” 

He nods.

“Which is better, glasses or no glasses?”

“Are you asking which one  _looks_ better?”

I nod, feeling a light blush creep up on my cheeks.

He hums as though he were thinking about it, reaching up and lightly running his fingers over my cheek.

“I’m not sure, I can’t really decide.”

I smile, placing my hand atop his.

He smiles back and I’m suddenly-painfully-aware of how close I am to him. Literally, I’d only have to lean forward a bit an-

I feel as though I were lit on fire when I feel England’s lips pressed against mine, instinctively reaching up and tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

He pushes me back and in one swift movement, he’s above me, his knees digging into the bed on either side of me-straddling me.

_Holy shit, England’s so much better at this than you’d think,_ I thought, trying to keep up with his fast pace of kissing as I slid my hands up his shirt and heard him moan lightly in the back of his throat.

He breaks away from the kiss, both of our breathing ragged and filling the silent air.

He shakes his head slightly, “Alfred, I don’t think-”

“It’s a good idea, yeah, I know,” I sigh. “But I could honestly care less.”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to my lips but ending it as soon as it started.

“You need to go to sleep,” he said, starting to swing his leg over me to get off.

“No, don’t go,” I whined.

He pulled the blanket up to his chin after lying back down beside me. “Sleep. Now.”

“Fine,” I groan, “but you owe me.”

 “Owe you what?”

“Anything I want.”

He sighs, “Of course I do. Fine, if it gets you to go to sleep.”

I chuckled, wrapping an arm around England’s waist and nuzzling my face into his shoulder.

I could practically see him rolling his eyes but still wrapping an arm around me.

“Goodnight Alfred,” he said softly.

“Night Artie,” I said. 

He shook his head, “Don’t call me that.”

I chuckled, remembering England (the England of my time at least) saying the same thing.

I fell asleep not too long after that, having finally managed to calm my racing heart.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Alfred’s POV:

Ships are a lot slower than I had thought. When I asked England what time we would be arriving in Spain he said maybe half a month, depends.

I then proceeded to whine about how long that took and England merely rolled his eyes at me, noting how impatient I was.

The only thing I really liked about this whole thing was night time and no, not just because I got to sleep for a really long time and not need an excuse.

*-*-*-*-*

Okay, so maybe not  _always_ night time, sometimes, it could be in the middle of the day as it was now.

I had managed to slip away from the crowd of pirates who  _still_ do not like me for some odd reason.

The only place I could really go in this ship and not be accused of stealing or whatever it is they have in their heads, is England’s (and I’s) room. 

I had sat down on the bed, gazing out the windows behind England’s desk to the never ending ocean.

I was so lost in thought-admittedly, thinking of the England of my time-that I hadn’t heard younger-England come into the room. I actually hadn’t noticed he was there until he was right on top of me, literally.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

I shrug, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Just thinking.”

He hums, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

I smile, turning and pushing him down on the bed, leaning over him and starting to leave a trail of kisses on his neck.

He moans softly and I can’t help but love the sound.

In less than two minutes, I had torn off both his and my clothing, leaving both of us exposed to warm air that filled the room.

I reach down and lightly run my finger down his length. His breath hitches then suddenly, he’s flipped us so he’s above me, pinning me down on the bed.

“Hands to yourself, Alfred.” He said, smirking.

It’s now his turn to lean down and start to leave small bite marks on my neck.

I try to keep quiet, hoping to get my wrists from out of his grasp. England unconsciously loosens his grip on me and before he is aware, I switch our places again, back over him and slowly stroking his member.

He moans loudly then, arching his back and wrapping his arms around me.

“I hate you,” he says, his voice strained.

“Really?” I asked, starting to move my hand faster.

He moans again but this time, he tries to push me back.

I smirk, grabbing his arms, lifting him up, and turning him around so he ended up sitting on my lap.

“Damn you, you bloody-” I had trapped his arms against his chest with one hand and used the other to force him to make more of those erotic sounds.

I can feel him start to heat up, sweat pouring down the both of us making this process that much easier. He begins to tremble, trying-in vain-to get me to let him go.

“C’mon Artie,” I whispered.

He throws his head back, a loud moan escaping his lips and before I know it, my hand is dripping wet.

England falls back against me, breathing heavily.

“I hate you,” he groans.

“No you don’t Artie,” I say, smirking and gently laying him back down on the bed.

Just as I’m going to get up and get dressed again, England grabs my arm, pulling me back down.

“What’s wrong-”

He cuts me off my smashing his lips against mine and starting, yet another, heated kiss.

“Mmm, Arthur, what are you-”

He pushes me back onto the bed, straddling me and grabbing both of my wrists.

I watch, slightly shocked, as he reaches over the side of the bed and ties me to it with the rope he had conjured.

“Like I said, keep your hands to yourself.” He growled.

“Damn it Arthur,” I groaned, tugging uselessly at the rope binding me to the bedposts.

He smirks, running a finger down my chest and saying, “Now what sort of punishment is dear Mr. Jones going to receive?” He asked in a low voice.

I groaned,  _that doesn’t sound too good,_ I thought feeling my heart start to pound at the idea of him doing any sort of “punishment.”

“None,” England growled, “get off him.”

“What?” I asked, looking up at England.

But England wasn’t looking at me, he was smirking at the two people standing in the doorway.

“And if I don’t?” Arthur asks and I gasp for he had lowered himself onto-

“England,” the England standing by the doorway beside a shocked-looking Prussia growled in warning.

“If he really wanted to get out of that, he could’ve easily done it. I mean, you have done it before, have you not, Alfred?”

“That was different!” I manage to choke out.

“However so?” England rose an eyebrow.

“It was the middle of the night and you decided to tie me up and almost drive a blade through me because you thought I was some sort of intruder trying to assassinate you, when in reality, I just came back from the bathroom,” I gasped. England had slowly started to move on top of me and it was all I could do to keep from moaning loudly.

He stops, “Fair point.”

“Off him. Now.” England by the door says.

England above me sighs in defeat, “If you wish, but Alfred, love? You’ll have to get yourself out of those.” He said, grabbing the blanket behind him and wrapping around the both of us as he slowly got up.

“I hate you,” I groaned, falling back against the headrest.

He smirked, “No you don’t Alfie,” he winks.

“Only I get to say that!” I say indignantly, trying to ignore the fact that England (by the door) was staring at me.

England (on the bed) laughs, reaching over for his and my clothes that had been tossed around us.

“You’re really not going to get me out of this, are you?” I asked as he slipped on his shirt and tossed me my clothes.

“Nope.” He says, popping the “p.”

I sigh, getting ready to break the rope myself but then I feel someone start tugging on them.

I look up to see none other than my brother Canada standing there, untying me.

“Thanks bro, that saved me from a bunch of red marks later on in the day,” I said, shooting England (on the bed-you know what? Let’s just call that England Arthur and the one standing up England, it’ll be so much easier) a look.

Arthur laughed at that, standing up and putting on his cape.

A few minutes later, I’m standing beside Arthur and across from England, Prussia and Canada, dressed as Captain again.

“How did you guys get here?” I asked, leaning against the wall.

“We had to make another time machine and come bring you,” Canada said.

Arthur smiled at Canada, a small, nostalgic smile, shaking his head slightly.

“What?” Canada asked, shocked.

Arthur waves his hand dismissively, “You just look so different.”

“And America doesn’t?” I hear England mutter.

Arthur looks like he’s going to argue but I shoot him a look and he rolls his eyes.

“Can we get back?” I asked Canada since he seemed like he would be the most reasonable.

Prussia scratches the back of his neck, “Uh, we can but I don’t think all four of us can.”

I blink. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was hard enough getting three of us to get here,” Prussia said.

“So you guys came here to get him but you can’t even go back?” Arthur asked, laughing.

I looked over at England and he looked really confused. He had his eyebrows knit in concentration, looking over to the side as he nervously chewed on his nail. (He really has to stop that habit.)

I really wanted to go over and ask him what was wrong but knew I’d be crossing some sort of boundary if I did. I mean, not that I already haven’t, like, for God’s sake-I fucking slept with him but in a past time but-

_Wait… does that mean England remembers this? Is this in his memory or…? Did he always have this in his memories and he just never told anyone? That could explain why he never told me anything about him being a pirate…_

“Alfred?” Arthur asks me, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

“What happened?” I jumped, looking around for some sort of danger.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked, looking at me worriedly.

“Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I said, not very convincingly.

Arthur stared at me for a moment but didn’t press for answers.

“I said, do you  _want_ to go back?” He asked.

I blinked, “What?”

Arthur gave me an annoyed look.

“I-I didn’t really think of it…” I muttered, looking up at England, his face unreadable but his posture stiff.

“I mean, you said it yourself,” I told Arthur, smiling. “I have to get back anyways, for my country.”

He smiles, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

I chuckle.

“Well, I guess you’re right. You kind of  _have_ to go so you won’t really get a choice.” He muttered, looking away, lost in thought.

_England never changes does he?_ I thought, watching as Arthur started to chew on his nail thoughtfully.

“I think we’re going to have to do it in different groups,” Prussia said after a small moment of silence.

Both Arthur and I snapped to attention.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked.

“I mean, we’re going to have to go back in different groups. Like, you and Matthew go the first time then me and Eng-”

“That’s what you meant!” Arthur suddenly exclaimed, looking at me.

“What did I mean?” I asked.

“Remember when I first saw you and didn’t believe you were America so you started listing a bunch of things about me and you said that me and Prussia-”

“Yeah,” I smile wearily. “That’s what I meant but I don’t think I was supposed to tell you.”

He smirks, “Oh well.”

“America,” England said, “what kind of things did you tell him?”

Arthur waves his hand impatiently, “Nothing important.”

“But it is, America, you understand you could be messing with-”

“Yeah yeah, the whole butterfly effect-fuck something up in the past then the whole present or future is fucked up even more, I know, but, England, do you remember any of this?” I asked, motioning to everything around me.

England pauses, his lost-in-thought face coming back on, “No, I don’t…” He mutters.

“Exactly! So what am I messing up?” I asked. “If you can’t remember it, then it must’ve not happened! At least, maybe not to you. Maybe he’s some other England, like, alternate universe type.” I said.

“America, I don’t think you happened to stumble into an alternate universe,” England says, sounding condescending.

I shrug, “You don’t remember it, do you?”

“I don’t think we should base this off of England’s memory,” Canada said, flushing when suddenly all of us looked at him.

“Why not?” Arthur asked.

“Well, maybe it just hasn’t, I don’t know, hit him yet, like, it hasn’t developed in his memory yet and, England, no offense, but you are one of the older nations. Your memory can’t be at it’s best.”

“Thank you Matthew,” England deadpans, ignoring Prussia’s laughter. “For that wonderful insight of yours.”

Canada laughs softly, raising his hands in surrender.

Once Prussia regains his breath, he says, “I-I have to agree with Canada. It might just not have ingrained itself in England’s memory,” he wrinkles his nose in disgust when he glances at the bed that stood a few feet away.

I saw in the corner of my eye Arthur’s hand twitch and when I looked over, it was out in mid air-much like it’d be after you throw something.

I heard Prussia yelp and I looked up, alarmed.

Beside his head, dug into the wooden post that stood there to support the ceiling, was a throwing knife.

Prussia’s face had paled considerably.

“What was that for?” He asked, his voice shaky and an octave or two higher.

“Why am I with him in the future?” Arthur asks me.

I shrug, “Beats me.”

England shoots me a look but I just smirk at him.

England sighs, annoyed, and pulls the knife out from the wooden post, with just as accurate precision as Arthur did, he throws it at his head and Arthur barely has time to duck when the blade sinks into the wall where his head was.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side…” Prussia glances at Arthur. “Again.”

England smirks at Arthur who rolls his eyes, grabbing the blade and before he can throw it back I yell, “Woah, woah, woah, how about no?” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling the knife out of his grasp, slipping it into my pocket.

Arthur glares at me.

“Arthur, there’s no need to throw knives at people,” I say much like a parent would to a child.

“Fine, but you owe me.” He said.

I laugh, “ _You_ still owe  _me_.”

“What’d I do?” He asked incredulously.

“Remember the first night?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, but I’m sure I paid it off at some point!”

I laugh, “You haven’t.”

He crosses his arms, “Fine. Tell them to leave the room and I’ll do as you wish,” he says, bowing formally.

I feel my face start to burn but I shake it off, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him close, whispering in his ear, “How about later?”

“Aw, there’s no fun in that,” Arthur whines.

I laugh, letting him go. “You really-”

“Okay, stop! Stop! Stop!” Matthew yells, his hands covering his face.

“Oh right, I forgot they could hear us, whoops,” Arthur laughs.

I clear my throat, “Anyways… What were we talking about?” I ask Arthur.

He shrugs, “I dunno,” he smirks, imitating my voice when he says that.

“That was a terrible imitation of me,” I said.

He laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, love.”

“Stop.” Matthew deadpans.

I chuckle, “Still, what were we talking about?”

“Getting you home.” England says.

“Right. When?” I asked.

“Now.”

“No, I don’t want to go just yet,” I whined.

“Well, when the hell are you expecting to go?” England asks.

“Do I have to answer that just yet? I mean, I haven’t even gotten to see Spain or anyone else! Hey, maybe I happen to stumble over Prussia as I do so.”

“Prussia, France and Spain always seem to be together,” Arthur adds helpfully. “It could be possible.”

“No, you’ve already messed up enough going to see me, we need to get you back as soon as possible.” England said.

I sighed, pouting at Arthur.

He shrugged, “Sorry love, I can’t do anything about it.”

“Fine,” I groan, “When are we going?”

“Now.” England repeats.

“How about later, he still owes me,” I nod to Arthur.

“Yeah, and he still owes  _me_.”

“I’m done, I’ll be by the time machine,” Canada deadpanned, walking towards the door.

“Wait, what if someone-” Arthur starts but Canada’s already gone. “-sees you.”

“There’s no need to worry about that, it’s Canada,” I said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Prussia says, walking over to the door, “that no one can see Canada.” He says, shutting the door.

“What do you mean? We can see him-”

“Yes, but we’re nations and we know he’s there, if we didn’t-he’d be invisible to us,” England says sadly.

Arthur looks over to where Canada had disappeared.

“ _I_ never have a problem seeing Canada,” Prussia says proudly.

“Are you sure I can’t have my knife back?” Arthur asks me.

“No.”

He sighs.

“Why does your past-self seem to hate me?” Prussia asked England.

“Why does my future-self hate America, I don’t know, just happens,” Arthur shrugs.

Both England and I flinch, remembering the same thing.

“What-” Arthur starts but I wave him off.

“But we should get going, before anyone comes down to check up on the England of this time. There’s only so long they can go without the Captain and not start freaking out,” England shakes his head.

Arthur chuckles, “Very true.”

_This has to be the first time they’re agreeing,_ I thought with a light smirk.

Arthur sighs, “Fine, if you have to.”

“Good, let’s go America,” England said, grabbing Prussia’s hand and dragging him away.

“But-”

Arthur cuts me off by covering my mouth with my hand, holding up a finger to his lips.

As soon as Prussia and England are out of the room, Arthur shuts the door and locks it.

“I knew that was going to happen,” I hear England sigh on the other side of the door.

I laugh, “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Come on,” Arthur said, dragging me over to the bed that looked so inviting, especially with Arthur on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I can't write smut but I hoped you enjoyed it. Comment below what you thought about this chapter a previous one or the whole story or whatever you'd like.


	6. Chapter 6

America’s POV:

Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy to be woken up some amount of hours later with cold water being dumped on me.

I gasped, sitting up.

“What was that for?” I asked England-only knowing it was him and not Arthur (like, the England of this time) because he wasn’t dressed in a pirate (Captain’s) outfit and the England of this time was lying beside me, also looking annoyedly at England.

“Get up, you’ve had your fun now it’s time to go.” England said in a low voice.

I groan, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

“How’d you even get in here?” Arthur asked England as he cleaned himself off with one of the towels Prussia had thrown at us.

“I know how to get into my own room,” England rolls his eyes. “At least, what used to be my room.” He said, looking around, slightly nostalgically, at the room that was filled with dark shadows now that the sun had gone down.

“Do you still have this ship?” Prussia asked England.

“Of course, what did you think, I’d destroy it or something?” He asked.

He shrugs, “I dunno, could’ve sunk.”

“Glad you have so much faith in me.”

Prussia laughs.

“Wait, shouldn’t I change into my clothes?” I asked after having slipped on the Captain's shirt.

Arthur shrugs, standing up and pulling up his pants, “I could care less.”

I shrug as well, “Whatever, I already have it on.”

I was actually kind of glad that I’d have something to remember past-England by, even if the England of my time hated me and continued to do so.

When I had finished getting dressed and found my bag with clothes, I heard the money rattle.

“Oh, right!” I said after everyone had turned to me when they heard the sound. “Charles gave me this but I never used it,” I said, pulling out the sack of money.

“Here, I won’t be needing it anyways.” I said, handing a shocked Arthur the bag. “It’s British money, not even currency from our time.”

“Who gave you this, exactly?” Arthur asked.

“A boy named Charles FitzRoy.” I said, shrugging.

“You never told me of this Charles you met.” Arthur said, setting the bag down.

“Wait, Charles Fitz-damn it America! Of course you happen to stumble over the soon-to-be next Duke of Cleveland!” England says, annoyed.

I laugh, “I did?”

England sighs, “So now I know you never payed attention to me when I tried to teach you history.” He shakes his head.

“Hey! I listened!”

“You did?” He asked. “Then who was King of England in 1415?”

I blink, then it clicks. “Henry V of England!”

“Damn, even  _I_  didn’t know that,” Prussia mutters.

England rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Let’s go, Canada’s waiting.”

The ship was oddly silent and I thought about how the people of this crew had gone the whole day without seeing their Captain except for this morning when Arthur did his daily check ups.

We walked silently down the halls and before we reached where the time machine was, I felt Arthur slide his hand in mine.

I smiled, lacing my fingers with his.

The time machine was lit up from the inside, a soft white color.

“Okay, unlike the last one,” Canada said, nodding to the time machine I came here in. “This one has a small pad to let the person here get back on their own will, unlike the last one which didn’t. So now we can try and hopefully get back in our time. America and I will go first-”

“Second!” I cut in.

“America and I will go second, England, Prussia, if you will?” He motioned to the machine.

“Just get it there you git,” England told me.

I sighed, “Fine, let’s go Matty.”

I looked over at Arthur who was staring at the glowing time machine, his eyes wide.

I smiled,  _he’s so young._

I pull him forward until he’s facing me, lightly setting a hand on his cheek.

“Damn it, now I don’t want you to go,” Arthur mutters.

I chuckle, leaning forward and lightly kissing him.

He reaches up and wraps his arms around me but I pull away a few moments later.

I step up to the machine, turning and speaking to Arthur whose eyes looked to be glistening but that could’ve just been my imagination.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon.” He said.

I laughed, “Guess so. Just-do me a favor and don’t hate me when you do.”

“You’ll have to owe me one if I do.”

I laughed, “Guess so.”

With that, I stepped back into the machine with Canada who shut the door and started to press a few buttons.

I sat down on the ground, wiping away the odd bits of water that somehow had formulated on my cheeks.

“Damn it,” I growled.

“I’m sorry Alfred,” Canada said.

I didn’t respond, merely pulling my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees and hiding my face in my arms in hopes of Canada not seeing or hearing the tears that ran down my face and sniffles I made.

A-painful-time travel later, I was sat on England’s couch, curled up just as I was when I was in the time machine but no tears came.

 _Stop crying, you git,_ the England in my mind snapped at me and I obeyed it.

So here I was, no longer crying or sniffling, just staring blankly at the air in front of me.

Canada had gone back to pick them up, he said it could take at minimum an hour-maybe half-for him to get there and then another for him to come back.

My outfit smelled of the sea, of sweat and of Arthur. England. Same thing, really.

I thought of maybe taking it off and hanging it up but remembered I wasn’t in my house and would prefer to keep it at mine and not England’s. He probably had a bunch of these outfits anyways.

 _I’m still kind of surprised it fits me,_ I thought, running my hand over the cape’s gold fringe.

I-like one would expect-was so lost in thought, I had let a whole hour (more, actually) slip past me as I ran through all my memories of England. The England as a pirate, I mean, if I ran through all my memories of England himself, then I don’t think I’d have enough time. I was actually reaching the point where England (the one of this time) had arrived when I heard loud footsteps.

“England, please calm down-” I heard Canada plead.

I stood up, expecting a really mad England to kick the door down but that wasn’t what I got.

No. What I got was worse.

Pushing open the door was none other than England, his eyes red as tears streamed down his cheeks which glistened in the light.

“You bloody git,” he growled, his voice hoarse.

“What’d I-”

Before I knew it, England had thrown his arms around me and was sobbing into my shoulder.

“How dare you leave me for three bloody decades!” He said in between sobs.

“What are you-”

“I have them. All of them. The memories. I got them as soon as we left that time and-and-and-” another round of sobs.

“Oh no, England, please don’t cry.” I said, rubbing his back soothingly, feeling a sharp pain when I remembered that he wasn’t mine. He was still with Prussia and no amount of changing the past will ever-

England pulled back, grabbing my collar and pressing his lips against mine.

I heard Canada gasp.

I slowly reached up and cupped his face, lightly kissing him back before pulling away.

I smiled, “Do you still hate me?”

“No you bloody git! Why would I-”

“Well, I guess I owe you one then.” I chuckled.

That didn’t help. At all. It just had England crying all over again and hugging me tightly.

I carried England over to the couches, sitting down and setting him on my lap as he softly hiccuped every now and then, having tired himself out and ran out of tears.

“I hate you,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, as he wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his hand.

“No you don’t Artie,” I smiled down at him.

Prussia-who had disappeared some time ago-stepped into the room with a glass of water. He knelt down beside England and said, “Drink.”

England had gone pale but nevertheless, sat up and took the glass, drinking over half of it before needing to stop to take a breath of air.

He looked up at Prussia with wide eyes, “I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Prussia says, waving his hand dismissively.

England knits his eyebrows worriedly, nodding.

“I have to go back anyways, Germany called about twenty times while we were gone,” he chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “See you two around. Tell Matthew-”

“I’m right here you know?” Canada asked from the doorway.

“Oh, sorry, but I’ll be off. Bye guys.” And with that, he turns and walks out of the room.

Canada sighs, looking at the two of us for a moment.

“I suppose you two are old enough to fare for yourselves, if you need anything, just call, I don’t want Prussia going home alone. I worry about him sometimes.” He muttered that last part before turning and walking out of the room and presumably following Prussia. Which was confirmed when we heard the door open and close for a second time a few moment later.

England sighed, his breath still slightly shaky as he set his cup down on the coffee table. He wrapped his arms back around my neck, saying, “I’m tired Alfred, it’s been a long day.”

“You’re telling me,” I muttered. “Well,” I spoke up, “you oughta go to bed then.”

“Please go with me,” he said.

“You expected me not to?” I asked, chuckling.

He didn’t respond, merely holding onto me tighter.

“Of course you expect me to carry you,” I muttered.

“Please?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“Fine, only because I love you so much,” I said, sliding one arm under his knees and the other under his back before standing up.

“I love you, Alfred.” He muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I know, I love you too,” I said, walking up the stairs to England’s room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, that was all. I hoped you enjoyed, leave a kudos, just rant in the comment section about how terrible this was or whatever your thoughts on this are.  
> I'm very sorry for the terrible smut and if you've noticed, yes, this title was inspire by the song "Stressed Out" By Twenty Øne Pilots.  
> No, that isn't the only song I know so don't start yelling at me for only knowing that song-I had begged my friend (@Anna_Rose17) to read and revise it (even if I'd do it regardless) and after asking for help with the title, she suggested that (and "to the good old days") and I said it was a wonderful title (cut it in half) and ended up with this.


End file.
